


Auror Bonding Events

by scared_pottah



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Gradual Buildup, M/M, Slash, Slow Burn, dorm sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 13:39:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18477355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scared_pottah/pseuds/scared_pottah
Summary: When Harry is trapped in a room full of strategically placed death traps along with Draco Malfoy, he can't help but feel rather (no, not aroused, go away, Hermione!) annoyed.





	Auror Bonding Events

In Harry Potter's opinion, Auror Bonding Events are absolute and utter bullshit. There are absolutely better things to do than stand in a cramped, flamingly hot room surrounded by dozens of sweaty witches and wizards in heavy robes listening to Kingsley speak—flushing himself down the Ministry toilets a hundred times in a row, for example. Hopefully they'll just be forced to sing some kind of cheesy unifying song holding hands and will then be permitted to leave.

But that doesn't seem like the kind of thing Kingsley is gravitating toward tonight. He's going on about trust and interlinking their lives together with their partners, and Harry definitely doesn't want to  _interlink his life_ with Draco Malfoy. Harry doesn't understand why he was partnered with Malfoy either—Kingsley surely understood their history? But when Harry went to ask, but he simply smiled and said "One day, you'll see, and you'll be glad you're with Auror Malfoy."; as if he would ever be glad for that  _Death Eater_. Harry wishes Malfoy had been put in Azkaban with his father—it would have saved him so much trouble. Malfoy is a pointy, arrogant bastard with exactly the same attitude he did four years ago in school; just a little more subdued and moody.

This time Kingsley has assigned them  _three fucking days_ in the same Auror dorm, facing the most difficult challenges and forced to depend upon each other for survival. If he makes it through this—not from the life-threatening challenges given to them, but from Draco Malfoy—he'll consider it a real bloody miracle. Ron comes over, also evidently furious with their new predicament. "Kingsley's putting me in a room with  _Clarke_ for three days? What is this madness? Have they all lost their minds? If I don't die from all the–the _challenges_ they're assigning us,he'll surely kill me first from all his bitching about." Harry nods fiercely. " _You're_ lucky. I've got to be with Malfoy." Ron shakes his head grimly as if Harry has just announced his death sentence. "I'd go mad if I were you, mate. Good luck, you'll need it." And he claps Harry on the shoulder firmly, walking off and disappearing into the sea of dark robes.  

Harry sighs and goes to find Malfoy in the crowd, searching for the immaculately groomed blonde head. They share a small smile; not one of friends, but an awkward one of tentative partners still recovering from seven years of hatred.

They have to wait hours and hours for their room to be ready—for  _what,_ Harry doesn't know, maybe just more death traps—and Harry is hot and cross by the time he's reached the small, deformed desk at the front. Malfoy's disappeared off somewhere, and it's absolutely unfair that Harry has to wait while he doesn't. Does his celebrity name count for  _nothing?_ The old wizard at the desk looks like he wouldn't care about anything as long as he got a cup of tea. Doesn't look like he'd care if Harry was the Chosen One, anyway.

When he finally storms through the door of their room and it slams shut behind him, Harry finds Malfoy standing in one corner. How did he get in so quickly? Harry thinks maybe being unnoticed and having no one really care about you has its upsides, but that still gives him a little bit of- _pity-_ for Malfoy. This is a rather new feeling, seeing as even when Malfoy was pressured into joining the Death Eaters, Harry was furious and dreamt only of slaughtering Malfoy along with hundreds of hooded figures, watching them fall in uniformal lines and feeling an immense, primeval satisfaction rise up within him.

No. No, he shouldn't think about this, the war is in the _past._ Hermione says if he doesn't forget (as if he ever could), it'll swallow him up and drag him away. He's  _trying._ Empty bottles of Dreamless Sleep line his nightstand, but even it doesn't always keep all the nightmares out.

With an enormous effort, he forces himself to focus on the room. There are bloody bunk beds. What are they- fucking first years?

“Are you a top or bottom?” Malfoy asks.     

What the fuck-

He sees Malfoy’s cheeks tint pink. “I meant-”

Of course. Of course he did. This is Malfoy. Malfoy wouldn’t go around discussing his preferred position in the bed, especially not with Harry. “Top,” Harry says bluntly, pushing past and heaving his trunk besides the bed. He pretends not to see Malfoy’s cheeks darken further as the former Slytherin drops his own trunk besides the lower.

This will not end well.

* * *  
  
Harry takes one step further toward the center of the room, but then the floor explodes beneath his feet. Thankfully, it's small (wow, Harry didn't think he'd ever say that), and the sole of his shoe is only slightly singed. Malfoy tentatively makes his way over, and they both stare at the burnt floorboards and gaping hole in the floor. Suddenly, the door flings open and a witch wearing a brisk blouse and skirt steps in, holding a clipboard. "Auror Potter Malfoy?" When they both nod, she goes on to explain that another set of partners had severe issues with their rooming situation and requested to move immediately, so unfortunately they'll have to switch rooms. That's fine—Harry didn't want to sleep above Malfoy anyway. The witch smiles and leads them out of the room as they scramble across the room, watching the floor nervously as they scrabble for their trunks. But the new room is even worse. There is only one bed, and the female officer smiles at them cheerfully as she walks away.

Clearly, this will be a problem.

* * *

They have no choice but to crawl in awkwardly at opposite ends that night, as neither wants to sleep on the floor after what they'd seen happen to it earlier. The sheets are light and the mattress is soft, but tension prickles between their turned backs as both try to stay as far away as possible without falling off. Harry eventually does manage to topple off around one a.m. (hitting his head on the nightstand in the process), after briefly drifting off to sleep. He hears Malfoy snort, and rubbing his head frustratedly, he climbs back in, balancing himself on the edge again by holding on to the edge of the nightstand. After another few minutes of silence, Malfoy sighs. "Oh fuck it," he mutters, and reaches out to pull Harry closer. They entwine awkwardly in the middle of the bed, and Harry has to admit it feels incredibly warm and comforting. _I'm sleeping with_ Malfoy, he chides himself. _That is disgusting. You don't want to touch that prat, do you, Harry?_ But still he relaxes against his own will, resting his head on Malfoy's shoulder and soon giving in to the inviting calm of sleep.


End file.
